


Between A Rock & A Hard Place

by littleheaven70



Category: Angel: the Series, Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Weather Warden - Rachel Caine
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 20:33:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9565199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleheaven70/pseuds/littleheaven70
Summary: Summary: When the Angel Investigations team tries to stop a summer storm from unleashing a horrible monster on LA, they find help from an unexpected source.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A birthday gift for Starlet2367, who has always been my fanfic hero.

The thick grey clouds rolling across LA collided, merging and growing into great, lumpy towers. 

Cordelia woke to the first deep rumble of thunder. The glowing red numbers on her bedside clock drifted slowly into focus. They insisted it was 10.30 am, although it seemed way too dark to be mid-morning. She groaned. “Dennis, why didn’t you wake me?” 

Sitting up reluctantly, Cordy tried to untangle herself from the crumpled sheet, but a soft nudge on her shoulder propelled her back into the pillow. “Seriously, Dennis, I’m fine,” she sighed, slipping out of bed. A frustrated little puff of air against her face told her that Dennis wasn’t so sure.

She’d been home from the hospital for a week now. No more never-ending vision from hell. No more demonic hand-tattoos. Things were back to normal - apart from the fact she now had a vampire for a roommate. Actually, it wasn’t as awkward as she’d expected. Angel didn’t eat her food, play loud music, or wander the apartment naked - ew. And his ability to sense an incoming vision, combined with super vamp reflexes, meant she hadn’t banged her head on the floor once since he’d moved in. Cordy figured that was a win, on the grand scale of things.

As she poked her feet into her slippers and shrugged on her robe, the smell of eggs and bacon wafted under the bedroom door. Her stomach rumbled like the thunder in the distance. 

She began to shuffle in the direction of the kitchen, but an insistent knocking on the front door caught her attention. A quick squint through the peephole revealed Wesley, still battered and bruised from being blown up, fidgeting impatiently on the doormat. She threw the locks and opened the door to let him in. “Hey, Wes. Whoa!” A gust of wind swirled around him, dragging in leaves and paper.

“I say!” He blew in, juggling books and a big satchel. “It’s rather wild out there.” As if to illustrate his point, the sky flickered brightly. Dennis slammed the door shut against the imminent roll of thunder. A dustpan and brush floated out of a nearby closet and set to work on the leaves.

Wesley dumped his gear on the sofa. “That storm looks very much like - do I smell eggs?”

“I swear, your ability to arrive the moment food is served surpasses even that of Xander Harris.” Cordy shook her head in amazement. 

“It's my superpower,” Wesley said, looking smug. 

Angel appeared at the table holding two plates piled high with scrambled eggs, as if he’d expected Wesley’s timely arrival. He shot a small smile at Cordelia. “Morning, sleepyhead.”

“Why didn’t you guys wake me? I would have done the cooking. New Cordy, remember?” she said, making an eager grab for her breakfast. Brunch. Whatever. It looked amazing.

Angel shrugged. “Dennis and I thought you needed the rest. That vision last night was -”

“A rip-snorter,” she nodded. There had certainly been snorting. Her head throbbed a little just thinking about it. “Have you got the right books, Wes?”

“Yes, I have. They’re fascinating, actually. But, Angel, have you noticed the sky?” Wesley asked, pulling up his chair and grabbing the pepper. As if to illustrate his point, there was another muffled boom of thunder.

“I generally make it a rule to stay away from windows during the day,” Angel replied. “Why?”

Wes shovelled eggs as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks, and then spoke with his mouth full. “Take a look for yourself. You’ll be perfectly safe. There’s no sun out there.”

“Ugh. Gross!” Cordelia huffed, but she followed Angel to the big picture window and carefully drew aside the heavy curtain. “Yeesh.” The sky heaved, greenish-purple and horror-movie menacing.

“Demon sky,” Angel said quietly, like he was thinking out loud. 

“Exactly!” Wesley waved his fork excitedly in the direction of the window. “That’s no ordinary storm. It’s been conjured.”

Off in the distance lightning flickered, and as Cordy let the curtain fall back into place, it stabbed through her head again, too. Angel’s arm flashed out, cool fingers grabbing her upper arm as she stumbled. “It’s okay. Just a flashback,” she said, rubbing her forehead. Two aspirin plinked onto her plate. “Thanks, Dennis. I think the storm might have something to do with last night’s vision.”

“Oooh, yes, the giant rocky snake?” Wesley looked entirely too cheerful about the prospect of facing a yucky stone thing that was planning to go on a rampage at about 8 o’clock that evening. He was already scraping his plate clean and glancing eagerly in the direction of his books. One shot out of the middle of the pile and landed with a puff of dust at his feet. “Ah, Dennis, you read my mind,” he said, scooping it up. 

“Soooo,” he mused, flipping pages. “Yes, here it is. Does this look like the creature you saw?” He tilted the book towards Cordelia. 

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, letting a little bit of the vision drift back in. Cold, grey stone, terrifying black eyes, and an intense hunger to kill… crush… Cordy suppressed a shiver of revulsion and glanced back at the picture. Yep, that was it. Like a giant chain of dried dog poop with a horn and a face. “That’s what I saw.”

Wesley started to quiver with excitement. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. You don’t forget something that looks like that. Yeuch.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust.

“What is it?” Angel asked, turning his attention away from tentative peeks out of the window.

“It’s an Onix!” Wesley said, looking around for a reaction. When Cordy and Angel stared blankly at him, he added, “You know, a Pokemon.”

“Pfft,” Cordy snorted. “Pokemon? I actually had a life in high school. Wait, they’re real?”

“Of course,” Wesley said, flipping pages feverishly. “Where do you think the Japanese got the idea?”

Angel leant back against the wall by the fireplace and folded his arms. “How come I’ve never heard of them?”

Wesley didn’t look up from his book. “They’re extremely ancient. The Watchers’ Council thought they were extinct.”

“This one didn’t look very extinct,” Cordy said. “What’s it doing in Los Angeles, anyway?”

“It’s been here for several millennia, I suspect,” Wesley replied. “Onix is a burrowing Pokemon. It travels underground, guided by a magnet in its brain that works like a compass. It was likely trapped by seismic activity on the San Andreas fault and subsequently expired. And now,” he looked up at Cordelia with shining eyes, “someone is trying to re-animate it.”

“With the storm.” Angel clued in. “Makes sense. It would take an enormous amount of power to raise something like that. As we’ve recently seen.”

“Yes. And where would someone get that much power?” Wesley pointed dramatically towards the window. “From lightning!”

Cordy snorted. “One point twenty-one gigawatts of electricity?” Wesley and Angel looked at her like she’d gone mad. “Oh, come on guys. Back To The Future? They used lightning to power the time machine made out of a DeLorean?” She shook her head. “Philistines.”

Angel looked puzzled. “Why would anyone want to make a time machine out of a DeLorean?

Cordy suppressed the urge to laugh and turned back to Wesley’s book. “So how do we stop this thing? I don’t want to get struck by lightning.”

“Hmmm, good question. Angel’s car won’t be any good as a Faraday cage,” Wesley said. “No roof.”

“In my vision, after the Onix had broken out, the lightning stopped,” Cordy said, gingerly probing her vision memories. “Can we just wait until it pops up and then, blam?” She mimed an explosion.

“Oh, excellent, Cordelia,” Wesley said. “Wait until it pops up and blam? Sounds like a watertight plan.”

“Find me a weakness on that thing, and I’ll kill it,” Angel said in that flat, dark tone that meant he wasn’t in the mood for mucking around. For dramatic effect, more thunder grumbled in the background. 

“Actually, Cordelia might have a point. While I would very much like to never experience another explosion, I think we might need some dynamite,” Wesley said. “These creatures are rather impervious to swords and crossbows.”

Angel was already heading for the door. He grabbed his duster from the coat hook and swirled it on in one graceful movement. 

“Where are you going?” Cordy asked. 

“Shopping,” Angel replied, disappearing out into the murky half-light.

***

The rain began around lunchtime, coming down in steel-grey sheets and filling the streets so fast that the water had nowhere to go. Cordy made turkey sandwiches, and Dennis started blowing around the apartment in agitation as if he could sense the bad ju-ju outside. 

Wesley pored over his books, cross-referencing and scribbling notes on a legal pad and occasionally muttering to himself. As time ticked by he set aside trying to work out who was responsible for generating the storm (although Cordy would've bet her entire paycheck on a certain evil law firm) and instead focused on how to kill the Onix. The finger pointing and name calling could wait.

Finally, around mid-afternoon, while Cordy was folding some laundry, Wesley took off his glasses, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and sighed. “I don’t fancy our chances.”

“C’mon, Wes!” She smiled brightly, smoothing out a t-shirt. “We survived the Mayor turning into a gigantic demon during graduation. How hard can a pile of rocks be?” He raised his eyebrow at her, and she let the false cheer drop. “Okay, silly question.”

“So, where exactly are we heading?” he asked, pushing his books to one side and spreading a slightly singed-looking map of LA on the table.

Cordy went over and scanned the roads for a few moments. “Here,” she finally said, stabbing her finger at a spot almost directly north of their location in Silver Lake. 

For the second time that day, Wesley looked unreasonably excited. “Are you sure?”

“Hey, don’t look at me. Ask the PTB; it’s their show,” she said. “What’s the deal?”

“That’s the Vasquez Rocks area!”

She shook her head. “Still doesn’t mean anything, Wes.”

“Now who’s the philistine? Star Trek. It’s where Captain Kirk fought the Gorn. I’ve always wanted to go.”

“Great,” she grumbled. “We’re going to get killed by a giant Pokemon on a Star Trek film set. It’ll be the geekiest death in history. I’ll never live this down at my funeral.”

If Wes was offended by that, she never got the chance to find out, because at that moment the door banged open and Angel stomped in, dripping wet and with leaves in his hair. Dennis fluttered away and returned with a towel.

“Success?” Wesley asked hopefully.

“I got what I wanted,” Angel replied. “Let me get into something dry, and we’ll head out.”

“No dinner first?” Wesley looked alarmed. Angel just sighed and headed for the bathroom.

***

It wasn’t actually a huge distance to Vasquez Rocks, but the storm was raging, and the roads were jammed as people tried to get home through areas that were rapidly flooding. They crawled along the 405 for what seemed like an eternity. 

Cordy had called shotgun and sat apprehensively in the front seat watching the lightning flashing ever brighter as they inched north. She twisted her hands in her lap, pressure building in her head. They just couldn’t be late. Angel glanced over. “Don’t worry; we’ll make it on time.”

It was a huge relief to peel off onto the Antelope Valley Freeway and make it through Santa Clarita. Finally, they rolled off Escondido Canyon Road and began to bump along the dirt track that curved its way towards the main parking area at the Vasquez Rocks. Thankfully, it was deserted. All the hikers and tourists had probably fled the wild weather hours ago.

There was no mistaking where their Onix was waiting to break free. Cordy’s heart beat just a little faster as the lightning lanced down again and again in the same spot, charring a huge, slanted rock. The sky here was a seething black mass, shot through with green and purple. The constant roar of thunder filled her ears and made the ground shiver. It was overwhelming. 

Angel parked the Plymouth as far away from ground zero as he could, but it was still too close.

“Don’t get out!” Wesley shouted over the din.

“Are you crazy? Of course we’re not getting out!” Cordy yelled back. The rock began to fracture, and little chunks crumbled off and bounced to the muddy ground.

“We’ve got company,” Angel shouted. 

Cordy couldn’t see anything at first, but then a sleek red Mustang appeared through the gloom, driving way too fast and sending plumes of water up as it tore past them and skidded to a halt beside the rock.

Angel’s hand grabbed the door handle. “Damn storm chasers. They’re going to get killed.” 

“No!” Wesley hollered. “We can’t help them yet. Not until this lightning stops. We’ll do them no good at all if we’re fried to a crisp.”

The door of the Mustang sprang open and a woman jumped out. The wind immediately caught her long, dark hair and blew it out like a flag behind her. 

“What the hell is she doing?” Cordy gasped. 

The woman spread her arms and lightning crackled at the tips of her fingers. Another gigantic bolt pierced the clouds and hit the rock, sending gravel flying. It pinged off the Mustang and the Plymouth, and also off what appeared to be an invisible shield around the dark-haired woman. Even the rain was bouncing off it.

“Oh my God,” Wesley squeaked. “She’s a Warden!” 

Angel cast a disbelieving glance at Electra-girl, and then back at Wesley. “I thought they were just a legend.” 

“The Watchers’ Council has been collecting evidence for centuries. Storms that mysteriously fell apart. Wildfires that just suddenly went out. But they could never prove it. Astonishing!” He cowered as yet another bolt of lightning struck the rock, and again at the enormous cracking sound emanating from the sky and the earth.

The Warden stumbled for a second, and then seemed to regain her composure. She cast a glance back over her shoulder, and when Cordy followed her line of sight, her breath jammed in her chest. 

Crouched on a nearby outcrop was a man. He was also bone dry despite the downpour. A long olive-green jacket hung comfortably around him, and he had plain round glasses and a shaggy crop of brown hair. He looked completely normal, but as she stared at him, he turned his head towards her with the fluid grace of a predator, and all the hair on her arms shot straight up. Eyes of bright copper, like molten pennies, regarded her calmly for a moment and then went back to watching the Warden. Cordy felt the unmistakable surge of power between them, and the Warden spread her arms wider towards the storm.

Whatever she was doing, it was an epic battle. The lightning attacked again and again, sometimes hitting the rock, sometimes hitting her. She was bleeding the energy off, feeding it into the ground around her. And, incredibly, not dying. Her jacket began to smoke, though, and she stripped it off, tossing it away into the rain.

Cordy’s hair began to rise around her head, static electricity crackling in the air. “Angel?” she said, wondering if perhaps they should retreat to the roadside carpark.

“We’ll be fine as long as we don’t touch the ground,” he said, watching the Warden and her friend with eerie focus. 

“Unless we get struck directly,” Wesley added. “But I don’t think she’ll let that happen.”

Again lightning struck the rock. More chunks of stone peppered the side of the car. The light, the noise was too much. Cordy felt like she was going to dissolve.

And then the rain stopped. The Warden slumped forward, hands on her knees, breathing hard.

“Good heavens,” Wesley said, as the clouds slowly began to calm and disperse. Small gaps appeared, revealing the pink post-sunset sky behind them. 

Cordy stared at the Warden in amazement. “That chick is badass. Wait - Angel!”

It was too late. He’d shoved the door of the Plymouth open and was walking towards the man on the rock. Wesley and Cordelia tumbled out behind him. Social skills were not Angel’s forte, after all.

They reached the base of the rock as the man jumped down - a cat-like motion that reminded Cordy more than a little of Angel. 

He regarded them calmly and nodded at Angel. “You’re the vampire.” There was no hint of malice, but bright copper sparks danced in his eyes, letting them know he was more than he appeared to be.

“Name’s Angel.” 

“He has a soul,” Cordy offered, helpfully. If that dude was as powerful as she thought he was, she didn’t want any of them to get on his wrong side.

“I know. I’m David,” the man replied, offering his hand. 

Wesley leaped forward and started shaking it vigorously. “What a pleasure to meet you, sir. Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. Rogue demon hunter. I have to say, I’ve never met a Djinn before. This is quite an honor.”

Cordy rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry. My dorky friend here has had a bit too much excitement for one day, what with the Star Trek rocks and the giant poop Pokemon. Um, what’s a Djinn?” 

“A genie,” Wesley hissed under his breath. “A powerful elemental being.”

“Really?” She looked skeptically at David. Those insane copper eyes burned into her for a long, weightless second, and she felt as if they reached all the way into her soul. She saw galaxies and fields and the sun. Suddenly, she was lost for words.

“Well, that was the weirdest storm I’ve ever shut down.” The Warden was picking her way between puddles, trying not to get mud on what looked like a really nice pair of shoes. “Wrecked another jacket, too. Who are these guys?”

David gave the woman a look that sent tingles straight down Cordy’s spine. She had no doubt that they were totally doing it.

“Joanne, this is Angel, vampire with a soul, Wesley, rogue demon hunter -” There was no disguising the amusement in David’s voice. “And…?” 

Cordy felt the full force of his gaze again. She drew herself up. “Cordelia Chase. Vision girl. I’m a conduit for the Powers That Be.” She didn’t want to be the only one without a cool title.

“Shit, really?” Joanne wiped her hands on her chic black pants, and a few little electric sparkles glittered against the fabric. “Cool. Why are you here? I’m assuming none of you are Wardens as well.”

“We’re Angel Investigations. We help the helpless. Which you’re not, obviously. Helpless, that is,” Cordy said.

“Cordelia had a vision that an Onix broke free of these rocks. We came to kill it. That’s what we rogue demon hunters - oof!” Wesley grunted as Cordy kicked his ankle. God, he was embarrassing.

“That explains the weird-ass storm,” Joanne said. “I knew it was supernatural. I guess we stopped it in time?”

Cordy was about to say how relieved she was that they didn’t have to battle an enormous rocky snake when there was an ominous cracking noise. Pebbles rattled down the side of the lightning-charred rock and plipped into the puddles at the base. 

“Er, maybe not,” Wesley said, looking horrified. 

Tremors shivered through the ground and up Cordy’s legs, and she grabbed Angel’s arm for support. Another massive crack rent the air, and the rock started to break apart. 

“Jo, get back!” David shouted. Jo didn’t hesitate, running for the shelter of a nearby outcrop. Cordelia sprinted after her, with Wesley hot on her heels. They dove for cover as a torrent of broken stone tumbled past.

Loud metallic clangs echoed through the valley. “God, not the car again,” Jo groaned.

“Where’s Angel?” Wesley asked.

Cordy risked a peek around the edge of their hiding place. All chaos was breaking loose. The lightning rock was dissolving into a pile of smoking rubble, and David appeared to be deflecting the rain of boulders as Angel dodged around and jumped over the ones that got through. 

With an enormous roar and a shower of stones, the rubble came alive, rearing a good fifteen feet in the air - a twisting, writhing string of rocks, getting progressively larger from tail to head. Atop the head was a nasty pointy spike and two malicious black eyes, every bit as terrifying as in Cordy’s vision. The Onix paused, and its head swivelled a full 360 degrees, taking in the surroundings. It was possibly one of the creepiest things she had ever seen, and given her scale of reference, that was saying something.

“Crap,” Joanne said, as clouds of dust billowed past. “I knew I should have worn more sensible clothes.”

Angel had his broadsword out - goodness knows where it had come from; maybe it had been stuffed under his coat - and he charged the Onix, slashing at the narrow section between two rocky bits. The blade bounced off with a sharp clang and sparks flew. Angel snarled, going full vamp-face. 

“Whoa!” Joanne glanced at Cordy. “Does he do that often?”

“When he’s mad. Believe me; it’s a good thing,” Cordy said, flinching as the creature roared again.

The Onix writhed, fighting some unseen power. That was probably David, standing motionless and utterly focussed nearby. Angel slashed at its craggy body again and again, producing more sparks. He tossed the sword aside as the Onix broke free of whatever was holding it, screeched, and wheeled around to attack. 

The nape of Cordelia’s neck prickled as power surged around her. Joanne flung her hands forward, and a massive gust of wind burst from them, slamming into the beast and halting its momentum. Angel took the opportunity to dart around behind it, crouching low and then jumping with vamp-speed onto its back.

“I can’t look.” Wesley covered his eyes.

Joanne threw more wind, but this time it just seemed to make the Onix angrier. Uncoiling to its full, terrifying height, it lunged at the rock they were using as a shield, bellowing in fury. Angel swung past, riding the enormous stony neck like some kind of horrific bucking bronco. The Onix went for them again, biting a huge chunk from their shelter, and power flowed around them - David was fighting it, too.

Angel tumbled off, bounced down the rock and hit the ground with a grunt. “Run,” he said hoarsely, raising his hand. He was holding a detonator. 

Cordelia’s legs screamed in protest as they all scrambled as fast as they could for the next big rock formation, flinging themselves behind it just as a massive thump made the air vibrate. She covered her ears against the awful screech, which dissolved amid a cloud of flying stones and dust. She huddled against the rock as bits rained down over their little group, and squeezed her eyes shut until it was suddenly eerily silent.

Cordy, Wesley and Joanne slowly stood up, coughing and shaking dust and gravel from their clothes and hair. 

“Just once, I’d like to work on a case that didn’t involve messing my hair up,” Cordy spluttered.

Joanne reached over and fist-bumped her. “Tell me about it.”

“Jo!” David emerged from the cloud of dust, green coat billowing behind him, and Cordy again immediately thought of …

“Angel?” She ran back towards the rock he’d tumbled off. “Angel!”

There was a crunching noise, and then the debris on the ground moved and parted, as Angel emerged from the remains of the exploded Onix. He was bloodied and filthy, but all in one piece, thank God. Relief surged, making Cordy feel dizzy. 

David, Joanne and Wesley arrived beside them. David reached down and offered Angel a hand. There was a long moment - it felt like the anticipation in the seconds between the lightning and the thunder - and then their palms met and David dragged Angel to his feet.

Angel coughed. “Thanks, man.”

“Explosives?” David asked, motioning to the detonator that was still clutched tightly in Angel’s other hand.

“I wedged some C4 into the gaps on its neck. Angel began trying fruitlessly to dust himself down.

“Good thinking.” David nodded.

“Actually, that was my - ouch, Cordelia!” Wesley protested as she jabbed her elbow into his side.

“Where did you get C4?” Joanne asked curiously.

Pride glowed warm in Cordelia’s belly. “He went shopping,” she grinned.

“Damn.” Joanne whistled. “That sounds like my kind of shopping.” She glanced over to where they’d parked. It was littered with boulders and broken headlights. “How’s the car?”

“A few scratches. They’ll buff out.” David smiled. He wandered over to both vehicles and flexed his fingers. The air rippled, and Cordy blinked, her vision momentarily blurry. When it cleared, both cars sat, pristine, on a clear section of road. That was _cool_.

As David walked back to them, all the dust and filth seemed to evaporate from his body. By the time he reached Joanne, he was immaculate. He reached out and gently ran his hands over Joanne’s head, down the sides of her face, her arms, over her hips. His eyes burned copper again, locked on Joanne’s. God, that was hot. And when he stepped back, she was clean again, and her hair a salon-perfect glossy dark curtain. 

“Now why couldn’t the PTB have given me the power to do that?” Cordy muttered. She glanced at Wesley, whose mouth was hanging open. He shut it quickly, but she could see he was blushing even under all the dust.

“Let me,” David said, and flicked a hand in their direction.

A warm wave, like the lightest summer’s breeze, tingled across Cordy’s skin and when she looked down at herself and across at her friends, all the muck was gone. “Hey, thanks!”

There was a loud rumble. Everyone looked up sharply, and Angel’s hand flashed towards his knife pocket. “Oh, sorry,” Wesley said. “That’s my stomach.”

“I could eat,” Joanne said, looking at the sky. Stars were starting to twinkle in the growing darkness. “Do you guys know anywhere good to eat around here? Our treat.”

“Splendid!” Wesley beamed. He looked like he was having the best day ever. “I hear there’s an excellent grill in Acton. Angel?”

“Sure,” Angel nodded, casting a glance back at the carnage they’d left. “I could do with a beer. Nice car, by the way.”

“You too,” Joanne said, eyeing the Plymouth. “1967, right?”

Angel honest-to-God grinned. “The lady knows her cars.”

“Well, this lady needs a drink. Let’s go.” Cordy patted Wesley on the back, and they headed towards the car in the gathering dusk.

\-- End --


End file.
